


In Scars and Touch and Ink, We Have Written Verses

by SiennaBlue



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post Dirge of Cerberus, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5256983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiennaBlue/pseuds/SiennaBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodies don't lie.</p><p>They're collections of truths, words and stories we never speak aloud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Scars and Touch and Ink, We Have Written Verses

**Author's Note:**

> Some months ago, I whined that I had nothing to read on my many flights. A friend responded by sending a fanfic that had Genesis/Cloud as the main pairing. A pairing I had never considered before. She said, you wanted something to read, I gave you something to read, stop whining and read it, it's good. What do you know, she was right. After that, more followed and here we are. This is for you, my dear tumblr friend, and for the authors who write amazing stories for this pairing.
> 
> Haven't written fan fiction in years, so there's no regular beta at my beck and call anymore. Meaning, this isn't proofread. Also, English isn't my native language and my editors at work keep yelling at me for mixing up American and British English even after so many years. Therefore my apologies for any and all mistakes hereafter.

He wakes to the gentle stroke of familiar fingers and the touch of dry lips. There's a low hum in his head, a sleepy slowness that is warm and fuzzy, weighing his limbs down like a sleeping spell. Genesis almost wants it to linger, wants to cling to the state with everything he's got, but the fingers and lips are calling louder now, rousing, tantalizing, tracing listless lines and forms up his arm and neck. 

He waits, keeps his breath even, his body relaxed. Waiting for what the owner of those lips and hands has in mind. The body they belong to is sleep warm and soft, loose, feeling almost like a personification of that hazy state between slumber and wakefulness that has left him now, forfeited yet again. 

When the other moves, it's almost no movement at all, just a dip and rise, muscles rippling unhurried under pale skin. Even with his eyes closed, Genesis knows. And he _should_ , as he prides himself with having watched that body move a great deal; in battle, in everyday life, and in bed, too. That thought almost makes his lips twitch in a smirk. Almost. He has better control than that.

Cold air and something soft and ticklish brings the here and now sharply into focus again. That ridiculous hair. If Genesis didn't know his appearance to be somewhat of a sore point, he'd tease the blond more for it, because really. Who, by the Goddess, has hair like this? 

Cloud Strife, apparently. 

A fingertip's caress tracing his lips. 

A touch so light Genesis is confident now it's not meant to be noticed, not meant to wake. Fingertips replaced by another, softer press, lips, warm and dry. Some unnamed part of his chest goes warm and soft at it, at the purity of it, for a lack of a better term. This isn't for show, nothing theatrical, nothing elaborate, it's just Cloud. Just Cloud. Genesis is inclined to let him enjoy this, whatever this is, for the time being. 

He unconsciously leans into the feather light back and forth of a thumb on his cheek, but he's always been a good actor and Cloud doesn't seem to think it curious. The redhead can detect his gaze now, though, appreciating, admiring, mindful, and if he were not starring as sleeping beauty, he'd be preening at the attention. Not that it stops him, mind, inwardly, at least. 

Sometimes the mako eyes still can't seem to simply look their fill, skittering away like startled kittens, like they are not allowed. It's a thrill like the sweetest kind of victory each time that they remain, linger on _him_ , the way Genesis's fingers turn pages of a book he can – and will, ceaselessly – quote by heart, or trace the canvas of the blond's own body. 

Not that he doesn't appreciate a blushing Cloud every now and again, au contraire. It's a marvelous thing indeed, that someone who looks like this, ridiculous hair and all, can still be so timid when commented on said looks. It might actually be a gift, that. Genesis has not grown bored yet after all, and there have not been many who could hold his interest. The blond however...

Warm breath sweeps his skin as Cloud's lips travel along the side of his face, tiny little kisses that spark like Lightning materia behind his eyes. They stop when they reach Genesis's temple, moving like Cloud's talking, but for all his SOLDIER enhancements, Genesis can't make out the words. Cloud remains that way for a long moment, face buried in the crock of his neck, so long in fact, that Genesis is near sure he's gone back to sleep.

The way his heart beats too fast, it precludes that theory, and eventually, fortunately before Genesis's patience can run out, the blond is sealing their mouths back together. Not kissing, just pressure again, but more, urgent somehow, and somewhere in the back of his head, Genesis begins to wonder. To plot, when careful teeth nip at the corner of his mouth.

The next time Cloud kisses him, Genesis doesn't hesitate, opens his eyes and his lips to reciprocate. The room is dark, almost shockingly so, but Cloud's eyes are bright, almost burning in the inky black, just looking back, and that expression, simple and clear... it's so beautiful, so open it makes his heart aflutter. 

There's no mask there, no smoke and mirror, so unlike Genesis himself. So unlike the Cloud Strife he is in daylight. Or maybe not unlike, but concealed, hidden. _We all wear masks after all._ And to be honest, he rejoices in these moments, the things he gets to see that no one, or rarely anyone, ever does. It's a high like hardly anything these days. 

He draws him in then, pulls him closer still and half on top, hands full of hair and shirt and then soft, warm skin. Scratches at the small of Cloud's back, and oh, the response is like revelation, the way his back curves but their lips never part, made even more delicious when that tiny shift in position brings something else into focus. Something hot and hard, and brushing his hip and, _oh_. 

_Oh_. Heat pours over him like molten rocks, a wave from head to toe, sparking every cell in his body alight. When Cloud makes to put space between them, to roll off, a faint blush adorning his pretty, pretty features, Genesis stops him in his tracks. Unrelenting he brings his head back down until his lips brush the blond's ear, until he can kiss and lick and purr the demand of "don't" right into it. 

He's the one trailing kisses now, only his are open-mouthed, hot and wet and everything but platonic, are the heat pooling in Cloud's lap. With a pleased huff, Genesis captures the man's mouth anew. A moment, three, four heartbeats of hesitation, and the blond goes beautifully slack on top of him. It's a wondrous thing how Cloud lets himself be rearranged, moaning and breathing shared air when Genesis moves his leg just right.

Holding his face there, Genesis keeps going, not letting them come up for air. They are SOLDIER, they can deal, and Genesis almost laughs when he thinks about it, about another life, what certain people would say to his exploiting SOLDIER enhancements for this. The thought is there and gone quicker than the blink of an eye, Cloud's breath frantic now, heart racing wildly, sweat gathering at the temples, and yet, he barely moves at all, rolling his hips.

It's hot, it's exhilarating, it's marvelous. It's not enough. Genesis wants more. He wants—he _wants_.

Anything. Everything. And Cloud. _Cloud_.

It starts in his fingertips, the back of his mind, that low, familiar tingle that seeps into to every bone, every part of him. With a move he perfected a long time ago for very different reasons, he flips them about, smirking down at a panting Cloud gaping up at him. It's a very good look on him. Letting his smirk widen, he dips low, kissing wetly behind the blond's ear. And when he blows warm air on that damp spot of skin and Cloud shivers all over, Genesis purrs in content.

Can't help himself but do it again, laughing in delight when Cloud's hand holds him there by the back of his head, the tips of his fingers digging into his scalp. He works his way down that fine body eventually, leaving traces of tongue and teeth as he goes. He doesn't tease, or he doesn't mean to, not consciously, he has other things in mind. Or just one. And the moment Genesis closes his lips around him, Cloud goes rigid on the bed, muscles battle tight and ready to spring at any given moment. 

The tightly wound control, even in this, Genesis has a lot to say about it. Much of it not casual conversation, most of it not even pleasant, but alas, it is once more conversation for another day. Now is not that, because now is the soft breathe of his name. Now is warmth and closeness and the hard, hot weight in his mouth. Now is soft sounds, ragged breath and the rushing blood in his ears. 

Now is tongue and lips and slick skin. 

Now is skittish hands, fiddling with hair only to flutter away. 

Genesis uses his own to bring them back, to help guide him as he moves, lower with every move of his head. His throat burns faintly at the intrusion, a reproach. He ignores it, concentrating, smirking inwardly at the noise that still make it past, he knows, tightly shut lips. Oh, but how could they not, he _is_ that good!

And. _Now_.

Thumb stroking lazily at Cloud's hip, he hums in the back of his throat, twisting his tongue just so, and release crashes over Cloud like a wave, uncurling like a spring all at once and abrupt, hands curling, grabbing fistfuls of hair firmly enough that Genesis can't move. He doesn't want to. Stays right where he is until it's all over, too soon, too fast, until Cloud bats him away, too sensitive. 

Genesis goes reluctantly, crawling up the length of that lithe body, fingertips absentmindedly painting invisible lines into fever hot skin. And Genesis kisses him then, why wouldn't he. Again and again, little pecks and licks that speak of things they never say more than than they speak of the things they did mere moments ago. They trade kisses until Cloud's breathing is back to normal, heartbeat even and steady. Like any other day, like always. Certain. 

Strands of that absurd hair of his tickle under Genesis's lips when he kisses his forehead. His eyes open to Cloud's equally glowing mako ones, looking up at him, watching, and for a second Genesis swears he can see himself in them, and oh. Those eyes. They speak of things they never say as well. Of shared moments, of similarity, of deviation, a dictionary filled with words they dare never voice. 

Sometimes Genesis wants to read them out loud, wants to learn them all by heart, every single one there is, more than even his beloved LOVELESS, wants it so much he can taste it. He'll wait, however. He's not a patient man, but in this he'll wait. Just a little while longer. Just so he won't make the words, all their verses, disappear. 

When the blond reaches for him, Genesis catches the hand in his, turning it so he can kiss the back of it, bringing it down with him. Head pillowed on Cloud's shoulder, he keeps his lips there even as he murmurs, " _my friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess_ ," and quieter still, "sleep, now."

Because despite it all, they _do_ speak the same language. The head coming to rest against his tells Genesis that, as does the arm curling along his waist. Again and again. Bodies don't lie, not like this. Bodies tell truths. They tell stories. And the one warm and close by his side, Genesis muses in quiet content, well, that story might possibly be another masterpiece he cannot get enough of.

Strangely enough, he doesn't mind that at all.


End file.
